Hetalia: The Truth of Dares
by ScribbleScrap
Summary: A depressingly large storm rolls in and traps all of the countries at America's house. Boredom settles in, and a distraction is needed. (A Truth or Dare, written in a regular story form, not a script. All dares accepted, excluding anything too inappropriate. Updated as soon as possible. Despite there being 50 of these things, I'm giving it a shot)
1. Scene Set

Hetalia: The Truth of Dares

 _Rules: Any dares/truths are acceptable, excluding anything too inappropriate. Let's keep this at a Teen rating, savvy? At the moment, the characters up for torture consist of anyone seen in the anime. Depending on how far this will go, I may add others for fun. I'll answer as fast as humanly possible. Lastly, the format of the dares/truths will be written like any normal book._ Not _like a script. You'll see how the countries receive their questions. It'll be a mystery until it happens._

 _Despite this being the 5000_ _th_ _dare book floating out on the internet, I'll give it a go. Cheers!_

A large house, an old house. More importantly however, A _quiet_ house. With a World Meeting starting with an argument about whose problem they should argue about first and then ending with more consistent shouting and small tiffs, it was a wonder how they were all sleeping peacefully under the same roof.

Let's not say that the world can't produce miracles. It's just extremely hard to find relatively solid common ground.

Putting that aside, back to America's house. Which, at the moment, was snowed in by a massive storm that should have been light flurries. With gusts of wind and large flakes battering the windows, no one fancied walking home anyways, let alone push open a door packed shut with snow. It wasn't very surprising that Russia and a few of the Nordics already tried that, but America insisted that shoveling snow wasn't something he'd like to do _inside_ his house. As the feeling of being trapped slowly settled in and the fact that a storm this relentless was unlikely to stop very soon, a foggy sort of misery hung over everyone's head. Just before retiring to bed, the majority of them snapped at three countries and stepped on the toes and kicked the shins of four. Tensions were high indeed.

Italy, meanwhile, sat on the edge of his bed and prayed for entertainment. Or, at the very most, some sort of distraction from this confining predicament.

 _The (Cliché) scene is set! Now to wait for that "Distraction". Make it a good one!_


	2. Truths and Myths

Hetalia: The Truth of Dares (1)

 _Thanks guys, for responding in eight hours or less! You're the best! Also, forgive me if the dares take a little while to happen at first. They just got them for the first time, so I need to create a reaction first. Don't worry! I'm doing every single dare. They also won't be this long._

As the sun just began to peak over the snow dunes outside, Russia was already out of bed, adjusting his clothes and picking up his heavy coat. Russia was normally an early riser, and despite the situation of things, this day was no exception. A long time ago, the Baltics had lived with him. Russia had woke up early this one time, and the Baltics had gotten it into their heads that he wanted his breakfast at the crack of dawn _every day_. When he attempted to tell them of the small mistake they committed, Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia ran into the next room and wouldn't come out. So for the convenience of the Baltics, Russia rose early every day. Now it was habit. And no one had his breakfast ready for him anymore. He lived a rather lonely lifestyle these days.

Russia stuck his hands into his coat pockets and began to wish for the Baltic's even more. They laid out his clothes for the morning, and not once did any of them leave anything in the pockets. His fist closed around a crumpled piece of paper before lifting it out and reading what was on it.

 _"_ _I'm gonna go with a simple dare and have Alfred dare Ivan to go on a date with his little sister._

 _-BlackNoblesse"_

"That's a funny joke." Russia smiled treacherously under his scarf. "I wonder who this 'BlackNoblesse' person is. Perhaps they take the joke too far. I'll find them." Russia crumpled the paper into his pocket and walked out of his room.

Germany, after doing pushups in his room, was the second person to make it downstairs into the designated area for eating. The largest dining room that was nearest to the kitchen. He was surprised to meet Russia already sitting down with his breakfast. It wasn't that Germany knew what Russia's normal habits were, but he had still thought that he would be the first to get breakfast. Silently he fished around in the cupboards for some jam, bread, and a toaster. If America was kind enough to lend them his house, he was kind enough to lend his food as well. Actually, come to think of it, a food shortage may end up being a problem. With there being at least twenty-five countries under the same roof, he didn't think they could survive two days.

Germany opened up the package of bread and was surprised to find a piece of paper stuck to the loaf. He plied it off, his expression changing when he noticed it was a note. It read;

 _"_ _All: watch SAO abridged episode 1,2 & 4_

 _Norway: what does the fox say? Why are you obsessed with that anyway?  
All: what is your favorite mythology?  
Germany: did you know that you have a harmless cursed doll in one of your museums?  
America: how do you feel about Annabel? She's real. From, topaz3" _

Was this meant to be in the loaf? Germany shook the bag a bit. Nothing else fell out except bread. Russia was the only one here at the moment, but this didn't seem like something he would do. Although, he would like Russia's opinion on this note. Germany walked away from the kitchen.

"Er, Russia? Do you have a moment?"

"Hhmm? _Da_ , sure!" Always so cheery . . . Germany shivered.

"Ya, thanks. I found this in the bread. What do you think of it?" He passed the note onto the table and crossed his arms. Russia took a while in answering.

"It seems like note I got this morning. Coincidence?" His face darkened as the other note was revealed. Germany pondered this until their thoughts were rudely interrupted.

"Russia, Germany, bros! What's cooking?" America slapped Russia on the back and quickly retreated away.

Germany looked down at their plates of food. "Toast and oatmeal."

"Hhm. Looks good. Also, that's my food."

"-but if you want to know what really going on," He tossed the papers on the table. America asked what it was and read the requests. His eyes brightened.

"Whoa! This is perfect!" He squealed. _What?_ "These things look like truths and dares! We should so totally do them! You know how everyone's so grumpy being stuck together? Yeah, well, now we have something to do!"

"America, some of these dares might cause more discomfort." Germany looked pointedly at Russia, who stared intently at America.

"Yeah, but what about the tension? It'll keep everyone in order, right?"

"America, I don't think you get the point. Someone under two codenames infiltrated your house, and we might not get any more requests from them. It's a mysterious circumst-!"

"Then we'll dare each other! Leave notes in places people will find!"

Germany had one last question. "What if not everyone wants to do this?"

America seemed a bit guilty for a second, but that expression was cleared away in an instance. "I'm sure that _someone_ has blackmail with them. You know, considering that most likely no one locked their doors last night. And that said person found things in people's suitcases earlier in the day. Like, magazine things. Or something. You catch the drift, Ludwig bro?"

Germany caught the drift. "Fine, fine. We'll go with it." He grumbled and lowered his head.

As soon as a good deal of nations streamed into the three rooms (Kitchen, dining room, and living room), a rumor that they were being forced into a game of truth or dare was spread about.

France approached America, who was the most likely to know about what was going on. He asked him about the dares and America winked.

"Actually, they aren't forced. Well, not yet. Think you could do me a favor?"

France quirked an eyebrow. _"Oui?"_

"Sweet, that means yes, right? Well, if the countries don't want to participate, I'm gonna need some blackmail handy." America bent down and whispered. France's eyes lit up.

"Yes, of course. When will the daring start? And why are you doing this?"

"Soon, I'm pretty sure. And why not? Everyone's so grumpy with each other, this'll be like an icebreaker!" They stopped as Germany stood up.

"I think word has gone about that our situation is being held against us. All of us have to participate in a game of truth or dare. Except, we don't get to choose "truth", or "dare". It is chosen for us. The person or persons responsible for this have chosen to stay incognito. They are BlackNobleless and topaz3. Their dares are written here." The crowd seemed discontent.

England argued, "How exactly are we _forced_ to do this? I haven't received-!" A photograph flew to the ground as soon as he crossed his arms. He scooped it up immediately and his eyes budged. "Bullocks!" England stuffed the picture into his chest pocket as his face turned a rosy red.

"Case in point, now that we're all here, or the vast majority at least, I'll read off the truths first."

France gazed sideways at America. "I didn't do that," He pointed to England. America gave him a thumbs up and shushed him.

"Erm, firstly, for Norway, _'What does the fox say? Why are you so obsessed with that anyways?'_ "

The Nordics, who were sitting in a bunch at the table, turned their attention to Norway. Norway's expression stayed sullen. "Really, you should be asking America that question. That song was made by a Norwegian comedy group. Somehow, that song made it to America, and the internet exploded. I don't mind the song, but America _loves_ it."

America put his hands in his pockets. "What? It's hilarious!"

Germany continued. "This is for everyone. _"What's your favorite mythology?'"_

Not everyone was able to squeeze in an answer as the question was passed around the table.

China spoke first. "In my mythology, there is a Dragon called The Candle Dragon. He is responsible for night and day, and the seasons. He was so powerful that each time he blinked, it turned night. He always sleeps, and doesn't need to eat. When he breaths and inhales, that causes weather to change."

Russia went next. "How interesting! My favorite tale is Baba Yaga. It is about a witch who lives in house that walks on chicken legs, and can travel in a caldron. She grabs children wandering in the woods." He smiled. "She is very famous in my culture."

"I've heard of her," England stated. "Didn't she eat the children? Anyways, I've always liked King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. But I'll tell a second favorite, since that's a very public myth. Herne the Hunter protected the forests of Windsor, around the age of Queen Elizabeth the first. He committed a crime and hung himself out of shame. He continues to haunt the place, and protect it, when something bad happens."

"Heh, cool story. You have a bunch about creepy ghosty guys protecting you. You must have, like, an entire army." America forced down a shiver. "Well, I _really_ like my myths. _My_ people are super freaking strong." He cleared his throat. "Paul Bunyan," England pinched the bridge of his nose at the name. "Was a super strong kid that was rumored to scream so loudly when he was a baby that he scared all the fish out of faraway ponds, and frogs started wearing earmuffs. He could fit into his Dad's clothes after one week of being alive. He sunk pirate ships and battled cannon balls in the Revolutionary war and sent them back at the ships. It's said that when he died, he went to Heaven but thought it was too boring, so he went to Hell and now you can hear him causing havoc down below whenever an earthquake happens."

"My turn!" France trilled. "Mine is of the morgens."

England barked, "I thought that was a British myth!"

"It originated in France. They are siren like creatures that lure men into the water with visions of underwater gold castles or their own beauty. They are blamed for some floods at my place." England grumbled over how morgen's were British lore. France noticed. "Perhaps you will be surprised to know that a lot of the Arthurian legend was created in France." That ticked England off to no end, and he kicked France's shins. The air was filled with yells and laughter.

"This is taking too long," Germany accused. "But I'm still going. The Brother Grimm's fairytales are one of the most known writers of myths in Germany. The goose girl is one of the stories they wrote. It's about a girl and her charm necklace from her mother. Although," Germany peered at America. " _Der großmann_ has become very big in America."

"But that story is so much like Slenderman! It's such a coincidence!"

Germany sighed. "Italy, you next. You'll be the last one."

Italy bounded out of his seat. "Yes! There are many variations of the story on why Cat's and Dog's hate each other. They used to be great friends, but the Dog's started killing rats, and the cats got mad and attacked the dogs. Ever since that, they have been bitter enemies! I tried explaining this to Japan once, but he has his own way of the story! I forget it though."

"Moving on. The next one is addressed to me. _'Did you know that you have a harmless cursed doll in a museum?'_ " Germany thought for a bit. Do you mean the German Girl Shrine? She's rumored to be haunted, but will bring good luck to people who give her gifts. She's a Barbie Doll that a dead spirit girl wanted. Yes, I do know, but is it the right one?" He shrugged. "America, one for you. _'How do you feel about Annabel? She's real.'_ "

America visibly jumped. "She's a creepy-ass doll I've seen before! Of course I'm terrified of- well, not terrified." He glanced around the table. "I mean she's creepy 'n all, but heh. . . not real, right? Or, I mean . . ."

Germany cleared his throat but Russia spoke instead. "That's the end of the truths, _da?_ Don't we have to watch something next?"

"That's right. Anybody have a device with them?" Every single country reached into their pockets and pulled out a small device. "That's convenient. Japan, do you mind if we use yours?"

"Not at all. What are we watching?"

"Ah," He looked down at the paper. "Watch SAO abridged."

Japan searched it up right away. He seemed excited. After the first episode, America was bouncing off the walls.

"Ohmygosh England!"

"What?"

"The mythical pebble of pig smiting!" England yelped as a projectile was thrown at his face. "Also, this is super freaking amazing! I wanna watch the real thing now!"

"America, I _hate_ to burst you bubble, but I think you missed the first part."

"What, the ad thing? The burger thing? It was a great advertisement! You do use all of your taste buds for burgers! Truest sign out there, hell yes!"

By the third video, everyone had complaints, and America was on the ground dying of laughter. "What even happened at the last bit of episode two? What even? Was that that Jesus character? 'Hay-Zeus'?" There were a few others in the group that chuckled at certain parts, including Demark and Prussia, but America out did them substantially.

"America, calm down!" Germany glared at him. Anyone else laughing quieted down.

"Heh, alright." America sat up feebly. "Pfft, that was awesome though. Japan, I know you make these kind of things, what is this?"

"An abridged version of Sword Art Online." Japan had liked the videos too, although quietly without expressing interest on the outside.

Germany read the last dare of the final note in his head. Then looked over at Russia, who already had Belarus clinging on to his chair from behind. Germany then read the note out loud.

"Russia, you are dared to go on a date with Belarus." Russia's face got darker and darker.

"No, I don't want to."

The rest of the group was split between wanting this to happen, and the other half was terrified of the results. Mutually, everyone sitting down sat up and backed away from the table. Russia was left with an empty seat beside him, which Belarus plopped down in right away. With wide, crazy eyes, she expressed her love for her brother for the thousandth time.

 _"_ _Marrymemarrymemarryme."_ In seconds, Russia's seat fell down as he rushed from the room. Belarus, used to this by now, ran after him.

"Hey, does that count as a date?" America asked. "I mean, they sat at the table alone for point five seconds with food, so it's kinda like they took each other out for breakfast."

"Yes, let's just go with that," The group agreed.

"Ah, we can set up something later!" The rock America had thrown at England hit him square in the forehead.


	3. Dares and Scones

Hetalia: The Truth of Dares (2)

 _BlackNoblesse, I am officially positive you want to kill America and Russia, or at least send them through some sort of torture-blender. Good for you! I'm not a supporter of any Shipping parties, but I don't really care what anybody else supports. Also, to the others, thanks for reviewing! Might have to put them in different chapters, though. Another rule for you, if a dare says something like, "You all have to wear costumes the rest of your stay", a following dare can veto that and replace it. Also, night will happen eventually. A few dares is a day._

Germany was thoroughly worried when later that day Italy had approached him saying that he had found two more notes in each of his boots. Germany sighed that special sigh he only reserved for Italy. A mix between, _'What now?'_ and _'Really, Italy?'_ He read them both, seeing that the style of questioning was the same as before.

 _'_ _NYET! I don't count that as a date but oh well. Ya can't make Russia do that without dying afterwards. Also a warning to Ivan and Alfred: I shall be targeting you two the most. I will be daring others as well but you two will be my main subjects. Also to Prussia, I dare ya to kiss Germany AND Canada! I also want Russia and Alfred to sleep together for the rest of the stay. EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, IN THE SAME BED! They don't have to do anything unless they want to, but ya have to unless ya'll want something to happen to ya'll child, Alaska! (I know I'm going overboard but I really like the direction this story is going) Good luck Nations~  
~BlackNoblesse out~'_

This "BlackNoblesse" was targeting, now? What was this about a story? Was this all some sort of game? Well that was . . . Quite frankly, terrifying. Germany wondered if these dares were worth it any longer, since America was sure to reject this. And for the dare concerning himself? He was just glad that Prussia was family. Italy patiently waited for him to read the second letter.

 _'_ _I have a dare._

 _All: Eat England's food._

 _-LyraCal'_

"Italy, how did you not realize these were in your boots?"

"I just found out because I decided to tie my laces! I didn't know you were downstairs this morning, so I knocked on your door for help. But you weren't there, so I just didn't tie my shoes!"

"Fine, fine, hurry off. Just come back eventually to eat England's food."

"I'll leave! You won't hear from me at all! Bye!" Italy left in a hurry and Germany doubted he would have an easy time force feeding scones to the party. Germany trudged off to go find England. It only took a few guesses to figure out that he was in the living room closest to the library. England lounged over a stiff chair, the book _The Hound of Baskervilles_ limply hanging out of his grip. His eyes strayed to the wind beating at the windows outside.

"Excuse me? England?"

" _Wot_?" He jumped a bit and turned around, straitening his shirt.

"I just got a new dare from Italy."

"Well, that's news indeed. What do I have to do with it?" England put up his guard immediately.

"You just have to bake something for everyone. I'm going to get the next dare done with."

"Bake something? I just started re-reading… Fine, that's fine. I don't care too much." From England's reserved response, Germany could tell how much he really wanted to cook. England shooed him away.

Germany walked out of the room only to bump against America.

"America! Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry Germany! I'm looking for someone." Germany told America about the new dares, placing the piece of paper into his palm. America's face tightened with this new information. He laughed sarcastically a bit. "You can't be serious!"

"Your rules, America." Although, Germany noticed the catch. "You're the only one who hasn't been blackmailed yet because this was your idea!" America had no need to do this dare!

"Er, well, about that," America patted his chest pocket. His face burned a bright red. "I was looking for France…" Looks like the idea backfired. So France was now in charge of this entire ordeal. This was not good.

"You still have to do it. Go find Russia and break the news to him."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." America gave him a befuddled gaze before scampering off, whining about Alaska all the while.

Prussia jerked the controller upwards and jammed the 'Y' button repeatedly.

"Die die die die! Dammit! Burn the bodies! Mattie, _burn_ them!"

"Maple hockey!" Canada squeaked, using his own controller to grab a bottle of oil from the corner of the TV screen. "Fine, fine! Grab the matches!" the two watched as the aliens burned in a fiery inferno of their own making.

"This is beautiful. We make an awesome team! Especially because of me!" Canada rolled his eyes and ran out of the barn just as Germany knocked on the door.

"Prussia?"

"Yo! West man! Invite yourself in!" Germany did.

"Is this America's room?"

Prussia shrugged. "Canada let me in."

"America has the best video games in his room." Canada pointed out. _And the oddest posters,_ Germany concluded, looking at the pictures of superhuman idols with their pants on the outside of their clothing.

"Hhm, well, I come with a dare." Prussia gazed over his shoulder as Canada paused the game. Silently, Germany was surprised that the two were so conveniently together. Everything was working out perfectly in such a terrible way, wasn't it?

Germany gave Prussia the dare. Prussia swore in German.

"Hell, Germany, come here." Germany bent down and let his brother peck the top of his forehead. "Never specified." He turned around.

"Was that it?" Canada asked, facing Prussia, confused over why someone would dare them something like that. " _Eeep!_ " Prussia dived forward, grabbing his shoulders, and kissed him smack in the middle of the forehead. His glasses tumbled off the bridge of his nose. Canada's face heated up and reached the tip of his ears.

 _"_ _Never specified"_ Gilbert garbled, trying to fight his own growing blush. "Screw this, I'm too awesome to be embarrassed! Canada, sorry 'bout that. I bet you're a great kisser."

 _"_ _Eeeeehhhh?"_ Canada's face was on fire. "Was that the dare? Was that it?"

"Ya," He ruffled Canada's hair and reached over him to grab his controller and started the game. "Now come on! Let's burn some mutants!"

"Right…" He still seemed a bit fazed. "Bye Germany." Germany took that as his cue to leave.

At that exact moment, his brain registered two problems. Smoke was pouring from one of the rooms down the hallway, and a strangled scream came from the bathroom right next to America's room. Germany courteously knocked on the bathroom door, but it opened by itself. America was tearing at his hair, a toothbrush clamped in one hand. Large, dripping, tar black words were spread across the mirror.

' _Hamburgers Originated in Germany.'_

The letters seemed rather permanent.

"Did you do this? Tell me! Did you do this?" America stomped on Germany's toes, his voice cracking. "I'm not ever going to be able to get this unflattering statement off my mirror! _My_ mirror!"

"Calm down! Of course not!" It was a very true sentence, but he decided to keep his mouth shut.

"In Germany! _Burgers_ originated in _Germany!_ " He felt partially offended that America disbelieved this. "I was just packing my stuff to move to Russia's room, you know, cuz I have to _share his room._ " The nation shivered. "And I found this. Like, what the heck!" Germany blinked and America sniffed the air. "Is something burning?"

Germany did a double take, running out of the bathroom. He had forgotten all about the smoke! It wasn't a big surprise that it was coming from the kitchen. Already, a large group of countries gathered around a stove, and a few were handling a large black pan filled with bits of charcoal.

England stood off to the side coughing. "I swear I didn't mean to! America's cooking equipment must be mucked!" He frowned. "Now I'll have to start again. Germany rushed forward.

"Er, no, that's okay! What did you make?" England pointed to the charcoal.

"Scones," Germany's heart dropped. He was not risking burning the house down for a second attempt at baking. They'll just have to eat what's there.

"What's wrong, _amigo_? You look worried!" Spain tapped on Germany's shoulder, quirking an eyebrow. He quickly explained the dare. "Oh dear." He paused. "Everybody listen up!" Spain yelled at the top of his lungs. The countries turned to face him. "We've got another dare!" He took the paper from the startled Germany and waved it high as if it was a flag. "We're forced to eat England's cooking!"

That may have not been the best approach. The room's noise started to lift into chaos. South Italy himself even made it a point to come over and knock Spain over the head. Spain was quick to act and stuffed a scone in Romano's mouth. Romano swallowed then choked, hitting Spain again.

" _Quiet down!"_ Germany roared. China huffed, Denmark grumbled, and a few others gazed at the ground, but other than that, full attention was on him. He cleared his throat. "I know you may not like it, but I know that none of you want your _blackmail_ shared with everyone else. Is that clear? Now stop complaining and grab a scone."

Iceland reached for one and plugged his nose. The rest followed suit. Austria politely left the room after grabbing his, unlike Hungary, who stuffed hers down as soon as possible before gagging. Finland was the only one who didn't act negatively to the pastry. He had taken a knife from a drawer and cut off the outside, leaving the untouched inside to eat. The nations watched as they beat their gag reflects. Finland smiled and ate his with no problem. The rest of the group seemed guilty for not coming up with a brilliant solution like that. Germany coughed into a sleeve and made way for the nearest trashcan, noticing dimly that England had left a long time ago.


	4. Dares and Accents

_Just a heads up, one of the things that makes this Truth and Dare book different from others is that they can only complete it in a humanly amount of time. For instance, England's baking dare didn't happen right away. He took time to make those scones. One more annoying comment, you guys can send blackmail to the countries, since your dares are getting more and more embarrassing. I'll make sure they read it away from the others. Thanks for the all the reviews! Cheers!_

England tread down the hallway, grumbling with his shoulders low and his chin sinking to his chest. He hadn't _meant_ to burn those scones like he had all those other times. England _knew_ he was an amazing cook, it was just America and those stupid mass produced products. Some appliances were bound to go awry eventually. Despite any past mistakes in the last hour, all he wanted to do was sit down and finish his book. It was just revealed that the man on the mire was-

He opened the library door and saw _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ had been moved to the coffee table next to the stiff couch. England moved swiftly over and remembered the book used to be resting against the leg of the chair before he left. Sabotage! And, as he concluded when he opened the book back up, a few extra place holders. Paper scraps twirled to the ground as if time was reversing itself back to autumn. Treating the slips with the same uneasiness he had around bombs, England scanned over the words printed and realized that his name showed up more than enough times. Using a few curse words unique to his nation, England speed-walked out of the library and back to that infernal kitchen.

It was as if they'd never left the World Conference room back in D.C. only a day ago. Dining room seats were fixed around the table in a half-hearted mess. Other chairs were dragged in from other places around the house. The situation cleanly stated was this; Grab your own chair or sit on your knees. Now, the problem was that they needed another table. America fixed this and pulled out a teensy-tiny one used for the micro nations whenever they came over. Although this was never spoken out loud, it was technically the "Kid's table" you see when loads of family members come over for dinner and the children have nowhere else to sit and the elder's talk wasn't meant for impressionable ears. Funny thing was, among others, Turkey was stuck at the dinky table. Other than that, the meeting was a go.

England had long since fished out the letters for other prying eyes, and the countries were doing just that. Those mentioned in the notes either grimaced or sat back thoughtfully. Germany took the reins of the meeting again with a swift glare and a cough.

"It seems as though this- or should I say these, mystery people have struck again. This time leaving behind a plethora of requests. Every one of you," He swept his stern eye around at the group. "Will have to complete whatever it says. No objections. Right, we will begin now. Has everybody read the notes?" No response. " _Gut._ Japan, start please." Japan seemed startled, but picked up a paper at random.

"This is from Marzue."

" _Another_ mystery person?"

"Are they all one and the same?"

"Are they all from one of us?"

"An opposing force?"

"Guys, if this was an otherworldly force, that would be so cool. But clearly they aren't. We have yet to receive peace offerings from them. Don't aliens do that?"

"Please, let me continue." The chit-chat stopped. "They say that they have a few questions for everyone. America-san, 'How do you feel with the knowledge that nearly half of your states, mostly in the Midwest, are called "Fly-over" and states are forgotten and ignored by the rest of America and the world?'"

"Hey!" America sat up and slammed his hands down on the table, his mood changing drastically. "If you asked some guy in North Dakota if his state was relatively unimportant or usually not mentioned, I'd imagine he would get pretty pissed. Even with the tech we have these days, people in Virginia don't usually get the news over in California! Every single state is important! The U. S. of A. wouldn't be able to survive without every state coming together and forming an entire country! Some people just don't remember this fact. _The entire_ motto of my originality would change if I was only made up of those first thirteen states. Just because you don't hear about what's up in another state doesn't mean it's not there or unimportant. There are people there who are doing good for the world, and they shouldn't just be ignored. Heck, in Europe, do the people who live in Spain learn about the things going on in Greece? Not unless anything bad happens!"

"America," England replied flatly. "You do know that we _are_ our own separate countries? Of course Spain wouldn't hear about anything happening in Greece."

"Yeah, well, you guys are so small!" He whined. "Britain could fit into L.A. or Florida, like, fifty times."

"But we're much older and more experienced than you. Carry on, Japan."

Japan did. "This is for everyone. Who has made the best type of music? And what type of music? Jazz, Rock and Roll.' Marzue-tan refuses to accept rap or hip-hop as an answer."

England snorted in an ungentlemanly fashion. "Punk rock, Arctic Monkeys and the Beatles. Done" He sat back with an air of haughtiness.

America rolled his eyes. "Glad to know you have _your_ opinions. Personally, country music kicks butt. I can't choose an artist, but I like Johnny Cash. But, I guess I really miss the times when jazz was super popular."

It was no surprise Austria pitched in next. "Beethoven and anything classical, of course. And he _did_ come from Austria."

"Wasn't it Germany?" Said nation begged to differ.

"We could just say he's from France." France cowered under a few glares. "Fine fine! I like _Chanson Française_ , anyways."

"You know what? I _really_ like those guys who played for me in Eurovision!" Italy said.

"I remember that. _I should have won._ "

"We came really close, though."

"It's been a while since I could count my points with my fingers."

"Tch, should have been awarded more."

"No kidding. Some countries were _so totally_ teaming!"

"What's a Eurovision?"

" _Quiet, you fools!_ " Germany yelled. "We've come to discuss the problems of the present, not the problems of our past," Somehow this seemed all too familiar. He switched tactic. "Never mind, Japan, continue please."

"Hey, Germany! I just realized that band played pop! Can I have a different answer?"

"Just be quiet, Italy. Japan, _please_."

" _Hai_. Britain, 'How do you deal with all the different accents people in England have? Does you accent often change? And if so, why does it change? Does it change due to emotions, or levels of tiredness for example? After all, every twenty-five miles the accent changes noticeably."

England sat back and put a finger to his chin. "You know, in all the years that I've lived, no one has ever asked me that, and I probably thought about this at least once. Strange, really." He sighed loudly. "I had a different accent once. I think it was a while ago."

"Back when you stole from any ship not flying under a British flag!" Spain and France choked at once.

"No, no. Those were the pirates."

"And then you awarded them afterwards!"

"Shut up, Spain, you twat. I guess the difference between then and now is that people saw me differently. Recently, I believe I have more of a stereotypical cockney accent. Back then it was only noticeable enough to differentiate me from the other accents. Now, people who don't know about the world think of the British as though they carried around a top hat, cane, and monocle all day. And the cockney accent fits right in with the whole look. Not to say that some Britons don't talk like that. Although, I've probably slipped into a few different accents from time to time."

"You so do. The more you yell, the more British it sounds. When you're distracted, it's like you're using your tongue and the back of your throat more to talk."

"Oh really?"

"Yes really. Your accent just kinda flows into the other and you can't notice it until a minute later when you think that you couldn't have possibly sounded that Scottish before."

" _Scottish_?" England mistook the speaker to be America.

"Well, not Scottish. It's like a hybrid…" America finished lamely and hushed himself, shrugging at England. England turned his attention to Japan.

"Last truth," For better or for worse. "'France and Britain. While it is often commented upon the fact that Americans are often attracted to English accents, it is less commented upon the fact that English people are often attracted to French accents. Not supposed to be shippy, but what are your thoughts on that?'"

"Hold on, Japan," England asked, "What does 'shippy' mean."

"Er," The Asian country seemed confused. "It is a term fans use for pairing their favorite characters together." Now why would this person talk about pairings? A puzzle indeed.

"Pairing?"

"Characters?" France was more concerned that they were all being looked upon by these note writers as character. He couldn't care less who was "Paired" with him. "I think that is _tres bien!_ It is true, you know, French accents are sexy. Apparently the English notice it specifically."

The only Englishman in the room was now burning a bright red. "It's not sexy! Haven't you heard all the times I yelled at you for skipping the "H's"?"

France shook his head. "Now, now, who's the person who greats everybody with an "ello" each morning? I've never heard any "H's" on _that_ word. Besides, we all know you cover up feelings with yelling. You're only proving more and more what you really think."

"No, no that's not right! Your accent is just…! It's just… Alright, so it's somewhat a _fact_ that French accents are," He struggled to keep a straight face and a clean tongue. " _Alluring_ in some way. But! That does not mean that it is "Sexy"." England used his fingers for quotation marks incase France didn't get the message. The other nation was happy, though. That was the biggest confession he'll get out of him on this topic.

"Now we are on to dares." The room became still. Each country had the prospect of either doing something embarrassing, or forfeiting the blackmail to the public. Each one of them was stuck between a rock and a hard place. "Let's do the quickest ones first. Russia," Russia became alert. "Hug Belarus. 'Give her a biiiig hug.'" Russia looked a little sick.

"All right. Hey Belarus?" Belarus was already prepared. Awkwardly, Russia spread open his arms and enveloped her in an odd hug. Belarus propped her cheek on his shoulder.

"I love you big brother."

"Eheh. You don't really mean that, do you?"

Belarus tugged on his scarf and nearly choked the nation. " _I know you want to get married, married, married, married…!_ "

"Okay, I am done now." He relinquished his hold, but Belarus didn't. He sat down with her still attached to him.

"Norway, you are dared to sing _What does the Fox Say?_ "

Denmark, who was right beside him, laughed. "I want to see this so much!" Norway promptly tugged on his shirt collar and strangled him. Denmark rubbed at his neck.

"Fine." Conveniently, America was already searching up the Karaoke version. He was pumped for this dare.

"Ready, dude?" He started the video.

Suddenly, the sound of voices and electronical music started up.

"Dog goes woof, cat goes meow, bird go tweet and mouse goes squeak." Norway gazed around imploringly at the group. "Cow goes moo, frog goes croak, and the elephant goes toot. Ducks say quack, and fish go blub, and the seal goes ow ow ow. But there's one sound, that no one knows," He inhaled sharply. "What does the fox say?" He said the following without as much gusto as the original singers had previously. "Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!" As he continued with the song, Greece felt that it was necessary to dig around in a little bag he had handy and scoop out a cat headband. Not quite a fox, he reasoned, but still good enough. Silently he slid them onto the victim's head. "What's the fox say?" Norway made an unintelligible sound and repeated it. "Big blue eyes, pointy nose, chasing mice and digging holes." Everyone watched without even trying to stop their smiles. He neared the end of the song, and suddenly, Denmark stood ready. "I know you're hiding, what is your sound? Will we ever know? Will always be a mystery, what do you say? You're my guardian angel, hiding in the woods. What is your sound?"

Denmark, of course, cheered Norway on by adding the rap.

"I want to know!"

" _Bebidibumbumbedum_!"

The first thing Norway did was sock Denmark in the jaw. Secondly, he disposed of the cat ears, then sat down. "I'm not going to do that ever again."

All of the Nordics doubled over with peals of laughter as Norway sat in a sticky shame.

"Next," Japan had no need to speak loud. What happened to their fellow nation could happen to them. "France?" Japan blanched at the words. "You're supposed to run around screaming 'Help! I've lost my voice and I don't know where to find it!" He looked up, puzzled. "France?"

"Er, sure?" France laughed nervously a bit. "This is a bit odd."

"Yes, but get on with it because I want to see this." England leaned back in his chair to get the perfect view of the entire room.

France took a deep breath, and then another, each one hesitantly. " _Help!"_ France yelled and a few cringed or flinched. _"I've lost my voice and I don't know where to find it!"_

"Now run!" France did, a bit oddly at first, but then broke into a full out dash as he charged from corner to corner.

 _"_ _I've lost my voice! I don't know where to find it! Help! Help!"_ England caught the hem of his purple cape.

"You can stop now." Breathless, France returned to his seat.

The last two dares were read out and Japan requested that several other countries should time their devices to ring in ten minutes. Germany was to switch personalities with Italy, and vice versa. However, England and America were to do the same with their accents. Germany seemed unsure, but Italy was already starting.

"Soldiers! Count ofv! Vone, too, three! I make terrible sausages and I'm too harsh! My vomen are terrifying along vith my tourists!" He still sounded Italian. Italians were Italians, and Germans were the Germans, there was no merging two entirely separate cultures.

"Italy, the time hasn't . . ." Austria, Greece, Turkey, and Hungary tapped their devices.

"All ready! Go ahead!" Hungary nearly squealed.

"Bollo- oh I meant crap!" England seemed to be trying to form his words at the beginning of his mouth, and was trying to speak much faster, which was turning out to be a terrible mess.

"My dear sir, you're doing it wrong. Yes sir, you're doing it terribly rubbish."

England opened his mouth wider, attempting to crush his accent with pure volume and force. "You sound like a totally," There was a grimace at that bit. "Posh as heck stereotypical movie actor. You pronounce your 'A' like 'Ah'."

"Pardon moi,"

"We don't speak French."

"It was formal though." America puffed out his chest and relaxed his voice. "Hhhmmm. So, wot dao yaow think ouf thehs?"

"I choose not to comment."

Meanwhile, "Italy" tapped on "Germany's" shoulder. "Germany, Germany, Germany! Football? Do you wanna play football? Football~ Let's play football, football Germany, football!"

"Are you vanting me to gas you?" "Germany" smiled brightly despite what he said.

"Italy" looked about done with his minutes. "Pasta, pasta! Constant cooking and tomatoes! I can't even open my eyes! Ah, um, oh no! White flag! White flag!" Despite Germany's efforts, he could not pronounce any 'W's'.

"Ahrn't aye sao British?" America laughed.

"Are you trying to butcher my accent? Kill it? Dispose of it violently?" England just about lost his grip on the accent. "Frick, crap, frick, Ahhhaaahaa, so American! Lord my pride. May it rest in peace." He strained to keep his pitch high. "Freedom, stripes, eagles, what the hell am I supposed to say?"

America shrugged, starting to pick up on England's idea at tackling the accent. "Pay attention taow me mohre. Tea, tea bags, top hats. Wot wot, sirrah. All that posh rubbish nonsense. Yes, yes. Tea leaves, tea in general, tea crates, Boston, wot wot. Uhhuuh, Sherlock Holmes. Twenty-one Baker Street? Twenty-two Baker Street? Wibb-olly Wobb-olly timey wimey. Ahooo frick me taxes."

"You think of _taxes_ whenever you think of _me?_ "

"Err, chow, or whatever. Bella, _buona fortuna_?"

"Yup! I mean, that's quite right!"

"I'm a biiig, scary German!" Italy tugged at the corner of his mouth and fake threw a bomb.

"Times… up." Greece stated.

"No it's not! I still have a second!" Turkey yelped, knees scrunched to his chest because of the dinky seat and table he was at. "Now it's done!"

"We'll go with my time, then. Well, I'm done." Austria clicked his old phone shut.

"Mine must have been a little late!" Hungary smiled. "I still have a minute to go!"

"Well, I'm done. America, don't ever try being British ever again." Germany, however, just sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I like being Italian, but I feel so robust being German! Like I can break rocks!"

"That's enough of the last dare. We have more papers to answer to, you know." Switzerland was already holding one. I believe this is addressed to me, from Emily. Yet another code name, perhaps?" Switzerland peered at Lichtenstein right next to him. Not many countries were female. He hated to suspect one of his own, but in this situation you could never know. Emily sounded an awful lot like Lily, Lichtenstein's nickname. Although, it was blatantly obvious it wasn't sent by her after he read the truth out loud. "'Has your peace prize been revoked, considering you threaten to beat people up with it? And how would you react if you got signed up with anger management?"

Someone in the crowd snorted. "I agree with Emily."

"Keep quiet when it is not your turn!" Switzerland closed his eyes, inhaling. "For one, a peace prize cannot be revoked. A human earns the peace prize, it's just that most Swiss win. If you _were_ to revoke my prize, then you'll have to revoke all _twenty-six_ of them. And no, I do not need to be put on anger management. I'm not even going to consider reacting to it. It's just that some countries venture too far onto my property. I gave them fair warnings." France and Italy shrunk down into their seats. "Who's next?"

"Someone pick a paper up." Out of the corner of everyone's eye, they barely noticed Canada reaching for a slip of paper. Spain dove in, grabbing one first.

"bruh! _Hola,_ bruh, whoever you are!" Spain shouted the dare loudly. "I _dare the Bad Touch Trio and Canada to do the Jingle Bell Rock dance from Mean Girls!"_ What's mean girls?"

"Why were you yelling so loud, idiot?" Romano puffed his cheeks.

"See? It's all in capital letters. It was meant to be yelled, so I yelled it. So what is this dance?"

"Pulling up a video… Now!" America slammed his extraordinarily large tablet down on the table. "Mean Girls is just a show at my place. Anyways, watch the video!" America clicked the screen. Four girls dressed in trampy Santa Clause skirts pranced on the stage, doing _very_ feminine dance moves to go with the song. The video was turned off immediately. No one knew who closed it.

The Bad Touch Trio snorted.

"I don't mind learning something so… flirtatious?" France said.

"Hell yes, I'm so doing this!" Prussia practically roared, grabbing the other two by the neck. "We're practicing _now_!"

"Ulp, I'm fine with whatever you want to do! Just please don't choke me to death." Spain begged and got out of his seat on his own. France wormed out of Prussia's elbows. Suddenly, weight was placed on Canada's shoulders.

"We can't forget you!" France dragged Canada away, who, for once, wanted to be left alone. Prussia and Spain could be heard dancing off, and Canada's scraping shoes echoed to a stop.

China accused, "Why on earth would any of them want to do something so silly?"

"I know that Prussia has got it into his head that if he can do better than what the dares ask him to do, he'll "Out dare" and "Out awesome" the rest of us."

"That's stupid."

"Well," America read another dare. "'I also dare Korea to sleep with a running fan in the room. Ninilia.' Won't he die from lack of oxygen? Don't fans suck oxygen?"

"No, you're swayed too easily by rumors, America." England lightly scolded. "It's just-"

"Hsst!" America poked him and pointed to his lips, then to Korea.

"Oh my gosh. Do I have to do this? Isn't this suicide? I don't want to die! _Da-ze!_ China! You can't possibly let them, or me, go through with this!"

America cleared his throat. "I believe I have a fan in the basement. Would you like me to help you find one?"

Korea pouted and his curl drooped. "No, I'm fine. Don't call me if I'm needed." He padded off in the wrong direction, but at least out of the room.

"In the last five minutes we have lost five countries." Iceland reasoned, a bit of a dark hint to his voice. "Who's next?"

"Hopefully no one." Germany had the last request in his hand before it could be grabbed. "It's from that BlackNoblesse again." He squinted his eyes. "China, you have to kiss Russia on the lips." It was said so subtly that only China, Russia, and Belarus got the dare.

"If you kiss him, big brother, I'll never forgive you!" Ice dripped from her tone. Russia shivered. If this dare became any worse (Although, how could it?), no blackmail will stop him. So what if they saw him in _that_? It wasn't as though he wanted to put his photo on a stake on the middle of the tables for all to see, however.

"No! I refuse!" China blew his last nerve. "I haven't been given a separate dare yet, and this is what happens? You can't expect me to go through with this!"

"For my sake, China, you will have to." Russia wasn't smiling.

"Is your blackmail that bad?"

" _Da_ , but at least this is forced. It is not like it is being caught on camera."

China stood up and nearly broke the leg of the chair in anger. "I will not! I do not care about stupid blackmail! I care about my pride!" Russia was having none of it, who walked forward and gently placed a kiss on China's lips, promptly walking away and deciding that none of this ever, ever happened. Belarus finally jumped Russia and violently clung to his neck.

" _Howdareyouhowdareyouhowdareyouhowdareyou!"_ It took Sweden to pry her off his back.

"'m sorry, Belarus." Finland gave a nervous cheer.

"You only did what you had to,"

China tugged at his maroon collar. " _Aiyah_ , why is the room so quiet? People, start talking!" Half attempted chitchat rippled through the crowd.

"What happened to all the talking disappearing through the entire meeting?" Italy whined. "It's a bit scary. We're usually arguing all the time!"

"You have a point, Italy-san."

"Ya, you're right. That is why I'm deciding to never have a meeting like this again."

"Huh?" The nations were taken by surprise.

"It's just that it would be more efficient if we did the dares on our own, instead of having to stand up and do them in front of others. Unless the dare or truth explicitly states we should be in front of others, we'll only put ourselves in ridicule." He coughed and decided not to risk a glance at Russia and China. "Also, its nine p.m. already. We have new sleeping arrangements now, don't we?"

"I'll go find Korea!" America made for a dash but was halted by England.

"I hate to bring this up, I really do, but you have your _own_ arrangements to bother with. Like whether or not you'll be sleeping in Russia's room or yours. Germany, can we leave now?"

"Yes. Meeting adjourned." Finland stretched and stood up, guiding Sealand, who'd been a pain for the entire Nordic group to keep quiet during the conference, to his room so everyone else could retire for the night.

"I'll make myself a cup of tea. Goodnight, everyone."

" _Oui,_ I'll follow you. Except, I might grab myself some wine…"

"Then you'll be up all night!"

"I never said I wanted to sleep."

"Don't mess with me! You and your "Beauty rest"!" The two left with the sound of their argy-bargy drifting behind.

"It's kind of nice to leave and not have that idiot Spaniard on your tail all the time. Pick up the pace, _fratello_ , let's leave."

"Aww, but I wanted to stay up with everyone else!" Italy frowned, waving goodbye to anyone left. Japan bowed, Hungary hurried off, and Lithuania was the last to straggle on off, along with Poland, who was avidly discussing opinions or whatever came to his brain. That left no one as the two shut off the lights, dimming the room along with its scattered chairs and extra tables, prepared for whatever shenanigans happened in the morning.


	5. Dares and American Englishmen

_I apologize for not updating! Loads of work, I suppose. Also, quite a few dares will be continued into the next chapter. Some things worth being stated, if you wish to send a request, PM me. If you just want to comment, go ahead and review. Also, I never mentioned who requested what in this one. Sorry, but you'll have to look back into the comments for this one. Next time, I'll have credits at the end. Je suis desole. Cheers for hanging on for so long!_

Several door were slammed, for several different reasons. Korea, panting with relief, showed up to breakfast early before nose diving into his porridge out of fatigue. Which was fine by him; he rather die of suffocating in oatmeal than dying due to a fan. America made it down to breakfast next and made no attempt at waking Korea up, instead glaring at thin air until Russia slammed their door and emerged into the kitchen with a wood splinter. America continued to pout until England took part in the "Door slamming spree" and kicked America's chair over, subtly handing him a slip of paper. Then England disappeared.

Contrary to the other countries, however, Italy pranced out of the room, all giggles and sunshine, as if lady luck had shone through his bedroom curtains.

"I get to cook today!" Germany practically bumped into Italy, who had stopped to wave his hands. Germany was holding three large books under the crook of his arm, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes, and I'll just sit and read all day."

China burst from the kitchen, hair a mess and barely hanging by a ponytail. He too was holding something; a steaming tray of Eggs.

"I was dared to create a horrible dish. I don't think I did it." China seemed a little put out that the dare was impossible to complete. "It is a very popular dish at my place. Scrambled eggs and tomatoes. Now try it!" China rammed the plate onto the table. "Please." One of the Baltics scooped some onto his plate, ate it, and then went back for seconds. Soon the entire table was doing the same thing. "Alright, I also come with more dares. I found them in the library." Not bothering to ask why China was in the library at a time before eight 'O clock in the morning, most of the group groaned. "I already gave Italy his, but Prussia has to help him cook lunch as well." Italy smiled, Prussia raised an eyebrow, then pretended to be pleased. (Prussia's 'out-do the dares' is turning a bit extreme, but the results are usually wonderful to watch). "France, you have to dress in drag."

England spit tea. "I'm getting a very big, "Here, have a present, now go jump off a ditch" vibe from these dares."

France crossed his arms. "I don't even have drag, so this is entirely impossible."

"Go cut up some clothes from America's closet." England whispered, just so an obvious someone couldn't hear.

"Is everyone done with breakfast?" Austria dabbed at the corners of his mouth. "I have two more papers for you all." He silently handed a rather small one to Prussia. "The other one asks a few questions, and two dares." Not all of the nations were done with eating, but that went ignored. "America, did you have fun at the Boston Tea Party?" America stood up so quickly that England's cup of tea crashed to the floor, staining the carpet.

"Oh, ah," America's face turned red. "Sorry, Engla- er, dude." He gulped. "I don't really know." England stared at him fiercely.

"If we force England to stay quiet, will you answer?" France cupped a hand over said country's mouth, then grabbed his hands. He struggled, which was a perfect distraction from America's answer.

"It _is_ difficult to answer, you know. But at the time, England was so controlling it was like, everywhere I turned England was over my shoulder. So if I could, just, _break away_ . . . I don't know where I'm going with this." America, flustered, searched for an answer inside his brain just as England pulled apart from France with a string of curse words. "Uh, yes. Yes, I did have "fun". For a few guilty hours, it was like I was just part of the crowd on the boat. Heck, I didn't know who I was working with, and they didn't know me, but we were all part of this one group fighting for the same thing. I was finally making my own choices."

England promptly yanked France's hands to his ears. He had heard nothing. England hid his face as best as he could. Austria gave the two a blank stare, as did the rest. There were some subjects that were just too raw. Austria made hand gestures to France, trying to tell him that England should look up, for the next question was aimed at him. France kicked his shin.

"England, did you ever have any romantic involvement with F-" Austria choked in his mouth. "France. France, I said France."

That took a very drastic turn. The entire table just about lost it. They've all seen England and France fighting, yanking on each other's ties, and quarreling.

"Oi! Oi! This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!" England's voice pitch took a turn for the worse as his accent became more stressed. "Wh-where would this question come from?" He seemed to be in shock rather than anger, but that wasn't really confirmed. France used the awkward moment for an awkward opportunity. He laced his arms under England's own and nearly got away with resting his chin on his shoulder before being smacked. "France! Just because-! I hate you so-!" England settled it by slamming an elbow into France's gut, then collapsed at his seat. "Is that bloody all?"

"You still have another question and a dare."

" _Poxy rotter."_ He cursed at no one in particular.

"What's your opinion on popular BBC shows? Sherlock and _Doctor Who_." England noticeably brightened.

"They're certainly something I won't mind watching when I don't have anything to do. I like comparing Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's works to the films. _Doctor Who_ has been going on for so long, and I _did_ watch the first episode the second time it aired."

America butted in. "Someone shut him up before he goes on any further. He can literally go on and on for ages."

"Not for ages!" England sighed. "Fine. Although, it seems that Top Gear has been forgotten in this . . ."

"Alright!" America screeched. "We have a dare, don't we?"

"Yes, and I want to see this one. France, England has to cut your hair." This time France screeched.

"No! I can't allow it!"

"The alternative is eating England's cooking."

"I hate to admit it, but at this point, that's better than this!"

"Oh, you big baby." England stood up and hooked an arm around France's throat to keep him from escaping as he requested for a pair of scissors and some rope. Russia had the scissors, unsurprisingly, but it took some time to find the bonds. Eventually, however, France's hands were wrapped around the back of the chair. His feet had been secured as well when England was nearly kicked. France whinged, pleaded, and sobbed in his seat.

"Please, think about this! You don't have to do this! I'll . . . I'll do anything, _s'il te plait_!"

"Anything? That's a rather hard bargain."

"Anything!" England asked for the scissors. France drooped in his seat. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" England fingered a strand of hair, rubbing it and wondering just how creative he could be.

"Yes, yes I am going to enjoy this." Suddenly, England gripped a full fist of hair. "I know exactly what I'm going to do!" His face shined. He raised the scissors.

. . .

France yelped when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Wild strands of hair peeked from odd spots.

 _Mon deiu,_ he looked like England. _England_. It was his hair exactly. France yelped again for good measure. "What have you done?"

"I've fixed your hair." England seemed smug. "It's only fair. This is revenge from when you cut _my_ hair, so I returned the favor." France stayed silent and pulled at his new haircut. "Also, you still have to wear drag. I'm sure America has some red, white, and blue outfits around here somewhere."

France sobbed quietly, sitting down. Prussia and Spain couldn't help but snicker from the sidelines, along with a few other countries. Although, it can't be said that they didn't feel a tad bit sorry for him. He was just humiliated by England, of all nations. Austria sniffed.

"Last one, then we'll all leave and have the rest of the day to ourselves. Denmark, Sweden, you are to hold hands for an hour without harming each other."

"Mm?" Sweden extended a hand for Denmark. Denmark just pouted.

"But he's so . . . _quiet!_ " They had to put up with it, anyways. A few nations began to sit up and clear their plates before Germany had a small announcement. They were to all meet back up at lunch for Prussia and Italy's food, and to do any dares that were meant to be done in public. Or truths, as it were.

Just as Prussia and Italy left for the Kitchen, the former leaned forward to tell Italy something. Italy's eyes opened wide.

. . .

Due to America yelling at the top of his lungs, Japan, who had been in the immediate area, bolted to the sound. France, accompanied by England, who was showing him to one of America's closets filled with old clothes, were also attracted by the screaming. The three bumped into each other outside of an open bathroom. Inside, America was staring at tar black letters. England and France, who had put up with America's eating habits for long enough, were laughing at the sentence _"_ _Hamburgers originated in Germany"._ Japan, however, was interested in a painted _"_ _Hi"_ dripping from the top.

"It wasn't here before! I mean, the hamburger thing was, but not that creepy 'Hi'! Like, what the heck? My mirror _is not_ a chat box!" America cried.

"That's unfortunate," England mused.

"You won't get to see your reflection in the mirror anymore," France said. America grumbled.

"Like I care. Anyways, why are you guys here?"

"I apologize, America-san, but we heard you scream and came running."

"Oh, right, well." A piece of paper fluttered from the ceiling. He opened it up and read the inside. "I guess we have some dares to do. And- oh!" America just became ten times more eager, and he elicited a trilling laugh. "England, England read this. Oh my God, England."

He did. "Wh-what? I have to do this?"

"What is it, _che_ -"

England elbowed France before he could say any French. "I have to . . . Oh, what does it matter, you'll see in a bit."

"England, hold still!"

"Wha-?" For a split second, England watched as America fished around in a bottom bathroom drawer, swiping out a _permanent_ marker. France held England still (Revenge! Well, sort of), as America pressed the marker to England's face. Stepping back to admire his handiwork, America capped the marker. France let out a _"_ _Honhonhon"_ of amusement. England felt his face, then peered through the painted words on the mirror to look at his face. There was a black monocle around one eye, and a moustache under his nose. "Bollocks, you twit!"

"I'm not done yet!" Japan, always the silent one, followed the three as they steered England back into the kitchen. He opened the door for them as the two countries who were already in the room jumped, startled from the sudden noise.

"Hey! What are you guys doing here?" Italy asked.

Prussia answered for them. "Judging on the awesome moustache and monocle, England's got a dare. Also, England looks like a caged animal. Your face really gives it away, in more than one way." England snarled at Prussia as America sat him down in a seat.

"There, sit tight! And," America grabbed the ends of his leather bomber jacket, taking it off and drooping it over England's body. "wear that. Be careful with these, alright? I don't want you to break them." Gently, while England was still struggling to get inside of the jacket, America placed Texas on the bridge of England's nose. "Do not break the glasses, clear?" England nodded. "Great! One last item, now."

France gazed at the new victim sitting in a chair. "Not so smug now, are we? You look ridiculous."

"And you don't," He retorted. "That hairstyle fits you very well." France hissed. All of a sudden, a large bag thumped onto the table. America pulled out an extremely large burger, placing in front of him.

"Japan! You're part of this dare too!" Japan, startled, instinctively took out his camera.

"Yes?"

"Just film this, dude. Now, England, take the biggest bite you can out of this burger." England was absolutely appalled at the idea, already feeling humbled in the bomber jacket, as it was far too big on his size. "Camera's rolling, man, Gotta do it!"

He began to pick up the food and wavered before his mouth, opening wide. There was a pause. Without further ado, he teared a large piece off, chewed, and then swallowed. England crossed his arms and zipped up the bomber jacket, scowling. "That wasn't so bad, huh?" England grumbled, setting down the glasses, which America promptly snatched up. "Also, I know the jacket's comfy 'n all, cos why else would I wear it, but I want that back eventually."

"It's not _that_ comfy." England quickly shimmied out of it, handing it back to the owner.

"Cool." Japan, meanwhile, had the _entire_ thing on tape, even the bit at the end. He clicked a button and the video stopped. "All filmed?" Japan nodded. "Now, one more dare, and a few truths. We'll do the dare at the end."

"Another dare? I never noticed." England frowned, then peered behind Japan's shoulder. Italy and Prussia had been watching the entire time. His frown deepened. The two, upon seeing this, immediately got back to work. "What are they?"

"First one's addressed to me. "America, do you speak any other languages besides American English? If so, which ones?"' America pondered for a moment. "Jeese, when I really think about it, that's a ton. Crap, I'll have to remember it all. Spanish, though, I know Spanish. I know Chinese." The others blanched at this. "Well, not a lot," America rubbed the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turned pink. "Well, not a little, either. I, uh, also know some French and German . . . and Vietnamese . . . and a tiny bit of Tagalong."

"Is that it?" France asked. "That's quite a lot, even if you are the world's biggest mix of people."

"I also know a few other languages, but not as fluently. Actually, I also know American Sign Language of course, and that's awesome. Alright, next question."

"Wait," England stopped him. "You know one more."

"What?"

"The person specified _American_ English. And, personally, I know that you know _exactly_ how the Queen's English is spelled."

"Heh, _'_ _Spelt'._ Oh, um, yeah. I seemed to have forgot about that one." He seemed to be trying to avert the last statement. "Carrying on! "Japan, what's your favorite anime?"'

"Oh!" Japan was mildly surprised, but in a pleased way. Italy, who was both mixing a bowl and peeking in on their conversation, brightened at this. "It is very hard to choose. _Full Metal Alchemist_ I remember very well. But, _Naruto_ is possibly one of my favorites. Or, maybe, _One Piece_? Ah, I don't think I can choose, but these three are certainly worth mentioning." Japan bowed his head a bit. "Sorry for a long and incomplete answer."

"Nah, that's cool. But I seriously thought _Attack on Titan_ was pretty sweet, huh? Is that one of your favorites?"

"America, I forgot you liked anime as much as you do."

"I watch a bit!" America beamed. "Three! To! Go! Let's finish these so we can find France some drag!" France protested a bit from the side lines. "'Canada and America, Have you ever realized how similar you countries are, culturally? I mean, longest unguarded borders, relatively same accent, (About seems to mess you two up). Why are you so stereotypically different?' Wow, this is certainly a question. But I am _a lot_ different from Canada! Really, I am! I have an idea . . ." America took his phone out of his jacket, turning it on to his text messages. "I'll text Mattie 'bout this. He'll help." America's fingers darted around on the screen. "He should answer soon."

True to his words, an alert sounded and America looked down at his phone.

 _"'_ _America, I'm busy!'"_ The small group of countries peered over America's shoulders. Another bubble popped up.

 _"'_ _History differs. French & English back story, for example. You left England with a struggle, and before me, so you fought more of your own wars, while I was still technically British. + It's very different down there. WTF is summer? By the way, I don't say "Aboot". I pronounce it like "About". Busy! Have to go."'_

"It's sad," America began, pocketing his phone. "That people often know us better by the wars we fought, rather than the bits in-between that also helped to make a nation." He coughed. "Anyways, I guess it's just the history. You don't hear too much of Canada before 1880 something, so you suppose that he's the quieter one. Also, it's cold as Hell over there."

England interjected. "That makes absolutely no sense. And people assume correctly. Canada _is_ the quiet one."

"Pshhh whatever. Stop whining, you'll love this next one. 'What is your favorite American TV show and movie? Franchises included.' Likewise for me, but, you know, British stuff." England delved into a deep silence, as though he was trying really hard to think of something. "Oh, come on! You've watched loads of my movies!"

"Films."

"It's American, so it's _movies_. I have mine already, so try not to take as long as you usually do. I like the James Bond movies and stuff!" He spun around and formed his fingers into a gun. "All that cool technology is amazing! You know, someone built an _actual_ James Bond car? With all the oil slicks and everything! The tires have those spikes, the windows are bullet proof, and it can spit fire! Imagine driving in that down the roads, to, like, Dairy Queen or something. Yo, wuddup, wish you had a car like mine, huh?"

"I couldn't follow a word of what you just said." England sighed. "Although, admittedly, I didn't know they made a car like that. It's fair to say that, if you fancy James Bond so much, I, er, guess Indiana Jones has a James Bond feel that I've always liked. The last movie was ridiculous, though! Don't get me wrong or anything! I did enjoy the first film, however."

"Exactly! I own a hat like Indiana! You are _not_ allowed to cut that up for France's drag."

"You can't keep bringing that up at inappropriate times!" France, unknowingly, had just dug his own grave.

"Oh, it is _so_ appropriate." He winked. "One of my newer storage closets has something for the next dare. Hey, Iggy, you'll love this." America whispered into his ear. England practically knocked into a wall laughing from sheer devious delight.

Wiping tears away, he asked, "But, where are you going to get the green . . .?"

"Don't tell me you forgot about your midlife crisis!" America gasped. "I stole all of your materials after it went a bit far."

"It did not go _that_ far, if you're talking about the same thing!"

"Are you kidding me? Do you even remember what you _wore?"_ With each passing argument, France became incredibly more distressed, if that was possible.

Russia froze. Not literally, thankfully, but Belarus had stalked into the room and was now making her way towards his corner of the room. Russia couldn't help but panic a little. Or, perhaps, more than a little. Not that he had anywhere to run, but Russia _did_ try scooting his chair farther away. He cowered just as she was inches away- and she hugged him softly, and not tightly.

Saying, "I love you as a sister, not as a lover. Don't marry me . . . but hang out with me sometimes, please." She pecked him on the cheek. "You're always talking to the other countries, and you never pay attention to me, so you _must_ pay attention to me." Belarus stood up, then walked out the door. Russia, shocked, felt relief. He wished Belarus was always kind like that. But his heart dropped when two pieces of paper had fallen out of her hand, drifting onto the floor.

Germany sat in his room with three books piled on the bed, looking at the clock, eyes blurring from so much reading. Paper was stuffed from underneath his door.

 _"_ _Work Break"_

Germany sighed. "That won't be very hard, then." His eyes went back to the pages.


	6. Truths and Pizza-Pasta

( _My life will be complete when I see France in this getup. I love you all for doing this.)_

The fragrance of pasta was absolutely delectable and tempting. Everyone swerved into the kitchen on their way to the table, just to make sure everything was alright. In truth, most of them just wanted a premier taste of lunch. Some became rather persistent, until another distraction swept by. That distraction couldn't have come in any form other than France, who walked delicately into the room, arms clutched to his sides. Japan emerged much sooner than any of them to avoid stares. America, however, led the drag parade at the front, making sure France wouldn't turn tail and bolt. England walked in smartly from the back, disposing of a green hair dye bottle into the trashcan.

"Like what you see?" France turned around, grumbling, but did so with a graceful manner, as if he still cared about looking flawless.

"Shut up and find a seat." England smirked widely. He did so, right next to Spain, who immediately got down onto his knees. He made clicking noises from the corner of his mouth, framing his fingers like a camera. France self-consciously repositioned a white floppy hat that had a blue sash, accidentally revealing a shock of bright chartreuse. He had hid his dyed hair underneath the brim, it seemed.

France's outfit was comprised of strips that were either red, white, or blue. The top of the dress was shaped similarly to a bodice. It was tight and close fitting. A red streak flashed down the middle with blue accents decorating the sides and the top of the bodice's chest. Below, however, was rather different, almost separate. It fluffed outwards, the hem barely passing his kneecaps. There were more red and blue stripes covering seams of stitched cloth. The thing that made the dress spring outwards were bunches of ribbons the hue of France's flag.

A few stray strands slipped down his leg even when he tucked them beneath his skirt. Eventually he gave up, but it annoyed England to no end, seeing those little strings flap about. He reckoned on moving seats, then saw that everywhere else was taken. It made him feel better, though, when it seemed as though others had fallen victim to what he had. Hungary and Romania were twitching beside each other in their seats, eager to pinch, scratch, or diss their companion. England persuaded himself that he was in a far worse seat than anyone else. Sitting next to France was usually uncomfortable, but when he looked this pompous and feminine, it was certainly a separate situation altogether.

Another moment passed by, with Italy and Prussia sliding in, and Hungary's hand unclenching to reveal a peace of white paper. So she was dared to be by Romania? And, speaking of that, England glanced over at Denmark and Sweden who were still stuck with the other. Denmark crossing his arms gazing away, Sweden, also, had donned a dour attitude. England was about to chuckle at this before remembering all of his previous dares.

Prussia handed the first plate out to France, bowing and addressing "Her" as "My lady". France huffed and took the plate before he set it down.

Germany raised an eyebrow, seeing the food in front of him. It was a hybrid of pizza and pasta combined. He took a tentative bite, as did others. It was definitely something. Nothing too amazing, but the fact that Italy, and Prussia, had managed to create a combo like this was impressive. Suddenly, he jerked his head to look at the clock. It was noon, twelve-ten. Germany grumbled and glanced around, slightly nervous. As casually as possible, he leaned towards Poland.

"I'm sorry,"

"Huh? What did you say?" Germany leaped up and smacked Poland's cheek before leaving his dare behind and fleeing out of the dining room. "Like, what the heck? You can't just do that!" Poland yelled, rubbing furiously at his cheek. "Liet! Go avenge me or something!" Lithuania paid no attention and continued to eat quietly.

"That was very sudden," China hummed. "Perhaps it was a dare?"

"Whatever it was, it was awesome and disruptive! No offence, Poland." Poland squawked about being hit. "Wasn't like Germany at all!" Prussia, who had stood up to shout his thoughts, sat down extremely pleased.

Italy squeaked, "Shouldn't we be worried? He just ran away so suddenly!"

"He'll be back, I guarantee it."

"I'll go check on him later." Italy shrugged, walked around the table, and then sat down. He pushed around a few noodles, taking a few bites. He pouted. The only bad thing about cooking for other people was that their reaction to the food was more appetizing than eating it. Italy had been around the same dish for long that it felt as though he had already ate his share. Despite that, from the little bit he had eaten thus far, it was different, but it tasted wonderful. Italy put a hand to his chin. _Although, it could do with more basil . . ._

Spain fell over backwards, landing with his chair and a loud _thump_.

 _"_ _H-hah- Chh!"_ Spain garbled some intelligible sounds, along with the beginning of a few Spanish words. He clutched at his mouth, intent on rolling around on the floor, his eyes leaking tears. _"_ _La leche!"_ Spain gasped, finding his balance and pushing himself up. Spain's chair was forgotten as he reached rudely across the table, stretching on his stomach to reach a carton of milk. Its contents slushed around until nearly all of it was emptied in his haste. Spain picked up the glass and chugged it down, slamming his head onto the table.

Not to mention that the rest of the room was now quiet.

"That was amazing! Italy, what on Earth did you put in the pasta?" Spain sat up wiping his lips and watering eyes. Italy, on the other hand, was terribly confused.

"Sauce? And noodles?" Italy walked forwards and stared down at Spain's food. He wiped the outside of the plate. _"_ _Piccante!"_ He gasped. "What have I given you?" Spain's pizza and pasta were drenched with the sauce. "I must have used the wrong bottle! I'm sorry _!_ "

"Spicy sauce, hm?" America leaned back in his chair. "Chances are I have some of that stuff around. Yeah, it's good if I'm bored."

"Bored! But that stuff _burns!_ " Italy wailed.

"I like it just fine," Spain argued, scooping up another forkful. Just as before, his eyes watered and his face reddened, but he was still smiling up at the countries. _"_ _H'it's ghood!"_ Spain wheezed. From the corner of the table, Romano _tsk_ ed Spain under his breath, but refused to say anything out loud, least it looked like he cared.

America laughed. "I'm so glad someone else likes this stuff! Do you know how alone I-!" America's phone made a trilling noise. "Oh, I have a message."

"Apparently, checking your phone is more interesting than finishing your- Oh dear that's my phone as well." England gazed down at the screen. "Excuse me. I'll only be a little while. Er . . ." Awkwardly, he scooted away from the table, pushing in his chair. England left the room through a small door that led to a hallway, closing it shut.

"I, uh, have to go, too." America nervously kicked his chair, then repositioned it to set against the table. America peeked at the screen again. It was from an anonymous caller, and to top off the suspicion, a video was attached to the message. The Subject simply read _Blackmail._ America shivered, finding his own small doorway to hide in, away from England. Hoping that this wasn't a virus, he clicked the video.

There was static until the screen brightened, showing a picture of a World Meeting room. It was dark outside; he guessed that this was one of those "All-nighters" they used to pull. When was the last time they did something like that? America pondered this as he subconsciously noted a Canadian flag hanging above the countries. He jumped when the sound of a glass slamming down came from behind whoever was holding the camera. America immediately turned down the speakers, breathing heavily. Finally, after a long moment had passed after the noise, America himself sauntered up to the head of the room. His feet, America noted, couldn't seem to find the right place to step. He stumbled right, left, right, right, trip, left. America, the one watching this all happen, winced. He was obviously drunk and off his senses. Bad thing was, he couldn't recall a thing. As far as he knew, this never happened.

Someone off the camera shouted at him. It sounded like they were yelling because it was "Break time" and he was "So wasted that this meeting didn't matter anymore". The past America kept on going, though. Why was he such a stubborn drunk?

Wait, drunk? How could he have possibly been drunk? England wouldn't let him touch a shot glass until he looked older than nineteen! To make things worse, America could tell that he was much younger than he was now in the video. What would England think if this got out? America pulled at his hair. Was he already in the video? Could he be watching this crazy stunt?

Come to think of it, that was impossible, thank goodness. This conference wasn't a World Meeting. It was the West-side-of-the-world Meeting. Heck, Cuba was there, and so was Mexico, along with Canada! He sighed in relief. That is, until the video him started talking.

 _"_ _Shu' up!"_ It was then that he wondered if England really wasn't in the room. It was wonderful lip syncing if he was. _"_ _I tell you, I won't be victim to your injustices anymore!"_ That was him. That was actually _him. America._ With the most British accent he had ever heard, besides England's own. This was terrible, and this was indeed blackmail. _"'_ _ell, I won't be done . . . too bad to . . . by anyone! Especially the Bri'ish. Bloody blokes can't stop me!"_ He was even swearing as though he were English. _"_ _I'm more than he realizes! I-I-I-I had to . . . to survive without 'is supplies for years. God that was hard. Ev'ry un was add- addict- addicted to tea then! So, I was naturally as so! Do you know hard it was fo' me to go . . . go without that? So! No more violation of my rights! I 'ave ever ay right to drink wot I want despite . . . wars . . ."_ He promptly collapsed. The video clicked off. America covered his eyes and tried to erase this from his memory.

"Right, time to see what bloody 'Anonymous' wants from me." England, taking shelter from behind a door, knew that this video wasn't going to be very pretty. He clicked on the video, noticing the bad quality immediately. He watched the number for how long the video was filmed for. It said; " _0 heures; 0 minuit; 5 secondes"_ So this was a French camera, then. However, France was hiding behind a tan sofa, smirking like the idiot he was. There was a hauntingly familiar laugh in the background, and it sounded as though someone was repeating the word "keys" over and over again. If that was so, than Prussia was behind the camera. Then where was Spain? It seemed that those three were usually doing something criminal, and worked together as a team. Perhaps this wasn't another B.T.T. exploit, but either way, those two meant trouble.

England glared at the screen, a sense of familiarity pecking at his skull. Wasn't that _his_ couch? And not to mention the wallpaper as well. This had to have been his house, at least one of them, in Ipswich, if he was correct. France beckoned to Prussia, and the camera moved forwards. A terrifying thought finally struck him, and England grasped that what was going on here was absolutely scary. They had managed to break into his house somehow, and now they could do it whenever it pleases them. England hunched over, both mad and frightened.

Suddenly, the camera sprung up, and England only half realized that the two had been creeping silently along the outside of his sofa. France grabbed at a mop of hair against the couch. There was a shout, and the camera was abandoned on a coffee table. Some scuffling around and more yelling ensued. The camera was jerked around with what seemed to be the toe of Prussia's foot as France chided him in the background that it had cost too much money to be handled disrespectfully. Then, England recognized the familiar tongue of a couple swears.

 _"_ _Let go of me you blasted tosspot! No good bawbag pillock! Unhand me! Let go! You'll regret this! France, you're such an uphill-!"_ France covered England's mouth with his left hand as he was holding his foot up with his right.

"This is why we're doing this. Prussia, is the camera . . .?"

"Yup!" Prussia was holding on to England's other foot. The present England glowered as he watched the duo hold him up like some sort of prized catch. His button shirt was pulled down by gravity, covering the bottom bit of his chin. The video England shook and struggled some more. France poked him and he swayed one way. Prussia pushed him and he swayed the other way, then France did it again, then Prussia, until he was like some sort of swinging contraption.

"Have you got any rope?" Prussia asked. England bit France's finger and squirmed about, trying and failing to lift himself up and unlatch the fingers around his ankles.

England promptly shut off the video. He might have remembered that, maybe. No one was allowed to see this, and the B.T.T. was not allowed to get any more ideas than they already had. He sighed, then quietly opened up the door leading to the other nations.

Which, frankly, was terribly awkward. Japan had somehow gotten himself squeezed into dusty pink, lacey trousers with an extremely girlish blouse decorated with a tiny ribbon at the top. Japan, who seemed to be half traumatized by now, was placing his hands on his head like he was a cat, and crouching down. Greece, who was next to him in a short, gray plaid skirt and the same blouse, was copying Japan, although he appeared to be indifferent to the situation.

America was already in the room, and waved, if somewhat sheepishly, to England. England frowned slightly. _What if America sees this video?_ He'd be a ruined man, if he wasn't already.

"It's a dare," China spoke.

"And I was under the impression they were doing this for fun," He sneered, sitting down.

"Can I please get out of this now?" Japan said, well, it was more like he was pleading.

"Yes, that's fine." Austria, in the absence of Germany, had taken charge. It must be a heretical thing. "We have more dares anyways. It seems as though they've managed to hide themselves in the oddest places." The papers had been stuck under Italy's pasta bowl, which seemed quite impossible that no one noticed it before. "Let's get this done quick. What is your favorite book genres?"

"Mystery and Fantasy!" England shouted.

"Superhero comic stuff! Actually, I like Western instead." America put in.

Canada bowed his head and answered "Mystery," as Italy jumped from his seat yelling "Horror!" Poland boasted that he favored the magazines he had at his place and Lithuania whispered Romance. Romano considered books about the mafia, but wasn't quite sure what genre to specify that under. Japan coughed out "Manga" as discretely as possible, and Sweden was the last to answer.

"Comedy."

Denmark snorted. "And here I was thinking that at least someone would have said 'Self-help'!" Norway hit him over the head.

"That's good enough for now," Austria broke in. "Which is better; books, movies, or books turned into movies?"

"Alright, can we agree here that no one likes books turned into movies?" England asked.

"Well, they are not exactly books, and it's not exactly a movie," Japan raised his hand.

"Keep quiet, Japan, no one likes movies like that!" Switzerland objected. "I like books."

"Okay, who doesn't like books, and prefers films?" Said Spain.

"I'm half and half," America began. A few others, like Finland and Latvia, raised their hands as well.

"So everyone likes books, then?"

"That or they're too scared to admit they like movies more. I imagine a few people tearing others apart over this." A few nations shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while three of four glared at them.

"Last one before it's time to leave. It happens to be three already. Belgium, do you get annoyed when people think that your people are French?"

Belgium looked around, surprised. "That's quite a question!" She sat silently for a tiny amount of time. "Well, I can certainly see why some _think_ that my people are French. One of my languages is Belgian French, and if you speak French, it shouldn't be that hard to communicate with the each other. But, if someone lives in Belgium, that doesn't make you French. You're not German if you live in Austria, you're Austrian. Do you see what I mean? So, yes, I do get a bit annoyed. And, I guess that's it! I don't really know what else to say." Belgium gave a small smile and straightened out her clothes.

"Thank you, Belgium. Now I think someone should go check on Germany." Italy, who was waiting for this command the entire time, sprung up and saluted.

"Aye aye, Austria sir! Thanks for letting me cook!" He ran out of the room.

"I'll be leaving-" Italy popped back in, sticking his head through the doorway.

"By the way, we're out of food." He disappeared.

" _Pardon?_ " France stood up, gathering his dress in the most dignified way possible. "Let me remind you all that it is still heavy with snow out there! We'll need more food at one point!"

"Don't get your tresses in a twist, Francy-frock. The storm'll stop soon."

"England! Have you not run out of tea already? America has coffee in his house!"

"Does he have wine?" England enquired.

"Yes he does!" America yelped. "And lots of things I've had since who knows when!"

"That's wonderful. We can all live on alcohol for a few more days."

"We cannot!"

"I see no problem with it!"

"But the food,"

"Haymitch!" There was the sound of someone being hit.

"How about everybody shuts up?" Russia, who barely ever raised his voice, had managed to make it loud and booming. "We will get food eventually. We have plenty of water. Your body can last a solid week without eating. Perhaps the storm won't go on for that long."

"But we're not even sure it's a storm anymore! The windows are covered in snow."

"None of us can willingly go that long without food," China objected. He glanced around condescendingly. "We can figure out way to not starve later. We are full now, and there is no need to worry for now. I suggest we disband and get ready for the rest of the day. Besides, we might have some leftover pasta."

The room thought over what China argued. It was logical enough, but the pressing thought of starvation still loomed near. There were many countries here, and it was doubtful that they would all put up with this. It was easily said that they weren't the most agreeable group ever, or the best in situations that involved patience.

China looked on at their confused and thinking faces. "Aiya, four-thousand years and I still can't tell if we are getting smarter or dumber."


End file.
